I don't think it's a secret that New York tastemakers don't love my work.

Though hope is frail, it's hard to kill.

Start a new fashion, wear your heart on your sleeveSometimes you reach what's real just by making believeUnafraid, unashamedThere is joy to be claimed in this worldYou even might wind up being glad to be you.

I've heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason Bringing something we must learn And we are led to those who help us most to grow If we let them and we help them in return.

I'm through accepting limits ''cause someone says they're so Some things I cannot change But till I try, I'll never know! Too long I've been afraid of Losing love I guess I've lost Well, if that's love It comes at much too high a cost!

I don't think it's a secret that New York tastemakers don't love my work.

Are people born wicked, or is wickedness trust upon them?